


Monochrome Nocturnes

by Dan_Francisco



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cunnilingus, F/F, Lesbian Vampires, Mystery, Porn With Plot, Smut, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco
Summary: 1888 London is wracked by a mysterious serial killer. Blake Belladonna, amateur sleuth, seeks to uncover the killer before Scotland Yard can while simultaneously investigating the mystery of the Schnee estate. However, old money and murder are just the tips of the iceberg, as Blake soon finds out when the strangely attractive Weiss Schnee continually appears at crime scenes. Is there a connection, or has Blake lost her mind? What secrets does the Schnee heiress hide?
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	Monochrome Nocturnes

**Author's Note:**

> While smut is present in the fic, it can be enjoyed in full even while avoiding it. If you would rather avoid the smut, it begins just after “Come, let us enjoy dessert somewhere more private.” and ends at the scene break, or you can highlight "Blake didn’t know how long they laid there in the bed together" and read the ending from there.
> 
> Special thanks to Plague for creating the fic cover!

Blake Belladonna was, unfortunately, a creature of mass inquisition and curiosity.

She moved through the streets of London regarded as little more than a common woman who knew not her place, endlessly seeking answers to questions that many believed she ought not to have asked in the first place. For one, she was far too interested in the sciences, seeking to rationalize a world that increasingly was irrational at the best of times. For two, the young Ms. Belladonna increasingly found herself at crime scenes, desperately trying to glean a peek at the latest investigative techniques in hopes of being London’s first detective girl.

It was a wonder she hadn’t been arrested yet.

Blake’s adventures into discovering the undiscoverable, searching for hidden truths, and attempting to reconcile the scientific progress against her own Anglican upbringing did not cease even when she ran afoul of local constables. She sought out all manner of gruesome and mundane crime scenes, and for a while the police humored her, answering questions and conversing with her. Soon this good humor and courtesy ran dry, and the police began to warn each other of Ms. Belladonna just as often as they warn of anarchists and dangerous Jacobins. Still, some argued she was harmless, and the disagreement divided the police in two.

What the police could agree on was that there was a dangerous killer running amok in London, and even the most cautious constable told Ms. Belladonna to be careful and watch herself, freely sharing details of the crimes with her. The victims were all relatively young men and women, seemingly without rationale to their sex. They were always found after having gone to bed perfectly fine, with what seemed like all the blood drained out of their bodies, appearing ashen white as if they had been frightened to death. The only marks – two small puncture wounds on the victim’s necks, with the tiniest streaks of blood running down them. This was, they argued, the work of a professional without morals, and unfortunately Scotland Yard’s leads were as bone-dry as the victims.

Blake was determined to do the job that the police could not.

* * *

The seventh victim in as many weeks drew so much attention, Blake could barely make her way to the front of the crowd. Local police tried their best to keep the ravenous, anger-filled crowds away, but she could see even from the throng of people that blocked her view that they were failing. The chaos only grew when they rolled out the body, covered with a sheet. The people demanded a look, hoping to identify the poor soul whose life had been extinguished far too early. Blake didn’t much desire to know – she figured it was most likely a local shopkeeper or minor trader who had, for one reason or another, run afoul of the killer.

Blake realized that trying to see the crime scene was improbable, especially when a particularly zealous officer fired his revolver in the air to stave off the growing crowd. Like the others who had been cowed away, Blake broke off. After all, if her theory was right, there would be no signs of struggle within. There would hardly even be any evidence of an actual crime, just the depression in a bed left by the weight of a dead person and the puncture wounds being the only hint that there was something amiss. It was a mystery that defied logic.

And, just like she had seen no less than five times before, the Schnee heiress stood idly by, a neutral look on her face as she stared at the confused, disorganized mob. Her carriage had apparently been held up by the crowd, and she had dismounted with her driver next to her. London’s typical rain was not particularly heavy today, though she still stood with a parasol affixed to her shoulder to cover herself. A long ice-blue cloak covered her shoulders, fastened with an ornate gold button with a dress that featured primarily a white and red motif. For a moment, Blake dared to imagine that she had spotted her, but the glance seemed to be just a passing gaze for now.

She shouldn’t do it. Blake knew she was risking the ire of the Schnee heiress, and if the rumors she had heard about their power were true, the risks were high. Still, Blake found herself approaching Weiss Schnee, almost as if she were approaching a wild animal whose disposition was unknown. And yet, Weiss Schnee seemed more curious by Blake’s steps towards her than offended.

“Um, hello,” Blake said. Should she bow? As far as she knew, the Schnees weren’t royalty, but…

“Good afternoon,” Weiss Schnee said, her gaze unblinking. The driver glowered at Blake, almost as if he was searching for a reason to encourage Weiss to leave at any second.

Blake swallowed. There was something that was oddly awe-inspiring about Weiss, like an aura that Blake felt herself drawn to. “I… I’m helping the police,” Blake blatantly lied, finding herself immediately tongue-tied. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been around a lot of these crime scenes.”

“Yes?” Weiss replied, her face betraying no hint of emotion or surprise. “What of it?”

“Madam,” her driver said, his mustache twisting as he narrowed his eyes at Blake. “You aren’t implying that Miss Schnee is involved in these grisly murders, are you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Blake said, immediately putting her hands up as if she was defending against an actual assault. “I’m just… curious, I suppose, as to why I keep seeing you here”

The driver looked to Weiss, who merely sighed as if bored, slowly blinking. “If you must know, Miss…?”

“Belladonna,” she said. “Blake Belladonna.”

Weiss took a moment, almost like she was studying Blake. “Right. Miss Belladonna, I have various tasks and duties in London that I must undertake for my family’s business. It is rather… unfortunate… that my business takes me across these crime scenes, for I would much prefer not to see such cruelty in my everyday life.”

Something was so strange about her accent. Weiss didn’t speak like a regular Londoner, not even the upper-class people she knew. There was a curious buzzing that she used for _that_ and _these_ , like she didn’t know how to pronounce the “th” sound in them. “I see,” Blake finally said. “My apologies if I implied anything, Miss Schnee.”

“Hmm,” Weiss said, nodding. “Jacques, I would like to go once this crowd clears. As for you, Miss Belladonna… I believe you and I may cross paths once more. Have a good day.”

With scarcely even a look in her direction, Weiss Schnee climbed back into her carriage as the driver continued to stare Blake down. A clatter of hooves and rolling wooden wheels banging against the cobblestone streets accompanied the Schnee heiress as she departed, while the crowd and police dispersed.

Questions ran through Blake’s mind. She decided to conduct some research, scouring the few books she had for references to the Schnees and their estate. This proved fruitless. Heading to the library managed to bring some results, but not many. Papers made mention of a Schnee here and there accomplishing something of note, but there was almost nothing to indicate _what_ precisely they did. Speculation among the street urchins and merchants she met was rampant, of course, but few could claim they knew _when_ the Schnees had arrived.

Thus, Blake resigned herself to knowing relatively little until she could speak to the Schnee heiress once more. Regardless, she continued to trawl through the newspapers and any historical records she could access, even going so far as to pose as a detective in order to find the more discrete and well-guarded tomes of old. She went back as far as she could, and found a disturbing correlation.

The land that the Schnee estate stood on was not as old as many believed. Primarily, it had been owned by various minor counts and dukes around London, until King George I, the Hanoverian prince, had arrived from the Holy Roman Empire in order to take the British crown. When the Germans came, so too did the Schnees, closely following the new German king and establishing themselves in a plot of land granted to them by King George I.

If only they had photography back them. She desperately wanted to know more about the Schnees, but since they had held no major political office – a Schnee was quoted as saying “thank God for the repeal of the Test Act” which apparently removed religious requirements. Strange. Wouldn’t those who closely followed the King be allowed to hold office anyway? What had stopped them?

These questions floated in her head the deeper and deeper she dug. The well of leads and potential answers ran dry, and even she had to admit she could do little without actually talking to Weiss herself. But how could she broach the subject? Most good detectives only sought to question people when they were suspected of a crime, and that crime had evidence to connect the two together. Blake had nothing but a series of strange newspaper clippings and a hunch, which was hardly enough to demand an interview.

And yet, Blake didn’t have to wait long to see Weiss once more. Five days later, another body turned up, drained of blood just like the others. Just like before, Weiss’s carriage had been stopped by the crowd, and she left the safety of it to see the crowd and stand there. On this day, the rain had let up and the sun shined brightly. Almost as if the sun’s rays offended her, she held an umbrella above her, passively observing just as she always had.

This time, with much less fear, Blake approached Weiss. The heiress still regarded her with a muted curiosity, only briefly glancing Blake’s way as she said something to her driver. “I was not wrong,” Weiss said when Blake got close. “Our paths have again joined.”

“Nobody seems to know much about you, Miss Schnee,” Blake said, eyeing her suspiciously. “Or your family.”

“We like to keep ourselves out of the public eye,” Weiss explained, casting a hand towards her in a lackadaisical manner as she looked back to the crowd. “People do not much like Protestants such as we are, especially the Anglicans that are so predominant here.”

Blake hummed, narrowing her eyes. “I’m Anglican, you know,” she said, folding her arms.

“Well, of course you are,” Weiss retorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re an Englishwoman, are you not? It would be unthinkable for you to be anything else.”

_Wait, she’s trying to distract you,_ Blake thought. Had to get this back on track. “I did not seek a religious debate from you. What is this business you and your family have? Why does it keep taking you into this part of the city?”

“That is private Schnee business,” Weiss replied, cold as ice. Her eyes pierced right through Blake, freezing her to the core, and in a flash she had regretted ever asking. How did she _do_ that? “You may be assisting the police, but know this; we will not allow you to meddle in affairs that need not concern you.”

“We?” Blake asked, having found her courage again.

“A proper Schnee protects her family,” Weiss said, turning away from her as her driver opened the carriage door. “You seek many answers, I can see it. Perhaps you would be better suited asking yourself if every question needs an answer, or if there are answers better off not knowing.”

Just like last week, Weiss and her carriage trundled away. Something else about her was strange – the scar that was on Weiss’s face. It ran along her left eye, almost crossing it, but her eye was not glossy like that of war veterans and old sergeants that she had seen with similar wounds.

Something was afoot.

Blake followed Weiss as much as she could, tracking her carriage and her activities through the city. She had a ritualistic pattern that Blake followed to a T, shadowing her as Weiss made her rounds through London. She never dared to step foot in the shops and homes Weiss stepped into, but the people she saw and met never changed. Shopkeepers, business owners, local members of Parliament and other notable figures, and even the managers of the new industrial factories on the edges of town.

Nothing much made sense to Blake anymore. Why was she visiting these people? Did Weiss ever go out at night? She staked out the Schnee estate, guarded by men who exclusively spoke German and shouted at her in heavily-accented English to go away or they would turn their pikes on her. The tall wrought iron fence that surrounded the land was ornate to an almost absurd degree, immaculately black and kept pristine as a veritable army of landscapers and handymen kept the greens and garden perfectly maintained. The house itself was as wide as it was tall, with all manner of great gables, awnings, and Gothic architecture that seemed more like out of a fantasy book than an actual modern estate. Though, given it _had_ been built to please in the aftermath of the ascension of King George I, perhaps this was to be expected.

Honestly, the size of the estate intimidated her. A building made entirely of red bricks like the ones all around England sat near the back, with massive wires connecting it to the main house. An eerie blue glow emanated from under the doors of this detached building, and Blake speculated this may have housed a generator to create electricity for the Schnee estate. It answered little about how the Schnees had the money for this or what they did to obtain it, though.

One week later, another murder occurred. Once again, Blake found the crime scene, and again Weiss was present for it. Even if she did not believe Weiss capable of the horrific crime of homicide, her focus had shifted away from investigating the killings and to finding out what the Schnees were up to.

“Must you continue to intrude upon my day?” Weiss asked, already noticing her approach.

“Miss Schnee, forgive me for being so bold, but I have my suspicions about the Schnee family.”

Weiss said nothing – in fact, the only hint Blake had that she had heard her at all was the minor flick of her eyes to Blake’s own, a slight narrowing that, to Blake, signaled intense disapproval. Her driver, Jacques, took much more offense. “You insolent brat!” Jacques shouted. “How dare you say such things to Miss Schnee!”

“No, Jacques, leave her be,” Weiss ordered, looking at Blake curiously. “Perhaps she is on to something.”

Blake folded her arms, shifting her weight just in case Jacques elected to ignore Weiss’s orders and attack her. Better to make a quick escape than be unprepared. “Who do you see every day?”

“So you _have_ been following me,” Weiss noted. “That’s very rude of you.”

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

Weiss sighed, and for a split second, Blake was sure she spotted a look that hid an ulterior motive, a darkened glance that crossed her eyes, but just as quickly as it had come, her look softened. “Well, since you’re so curious, perhaps you would like to find out for yourself?”

Blake blinked, furrowing her brow. “What do you mean?”

“I would like you to join me for dinner this evening,” Weiss said, twisting her parasol around playfully. “After all, you’re so eager to learn. Where else do you anticipate to find answers?”

She hesitated. Was this some sort of a trick? The possibility was there. “Alright,” Blake said. _Why did I just agree?_

Just as soon as she had agreed, Weiss grinned. It unnerved her. There was true joy and happiness in it, to be sure, but Blake swore up and down that there was something else in her grin. Something _wrong._ It was as if Weiss rarely, if ever, smiled, and the very act was unnatural unless accompanied by malice. But that couldn’t be true, could it?

“Excellent,” Weiss said. “Come to the Schnee Estate no later than four. I’m sure you’re well aware of where it is.”

“How do you-”

“You’ve already shown an _excellent_ inclination to follow people, and my guards have seen you before. They’ll be much kinder to you this time as an esteemed guest of mine,” Weiss explained, turning away. “Don’t you dare be late.”

As before, Weiss disappeared with the clatter of a typical carriage, heading off into the streets of London, leaving Blake alone as rain began to fall.

What had she just gotten herself into?

The rain had turned into a total downpour as four o’clock approached. Blake was early, _very_ early in fact, by nearly ten minutes. The guards, instead of shouting at her in German like they had before, nodded and welcomed her with open arms. Walking up to the massive doors of the Schnee estate felt almost like marching up to her own funeral, if she was so inclined to head towards doom and gloom sort of thinking. Distant thunder rolled, passing by her like a wave as she neared the front entrance. This was so stupid. What was Blake thinking?

Jacques opened the doors for her, clear condescension in his face as he looked down on her. “Please, come in, Miss Belladonna,” he said cheerfully, though Blake believed he was anything _but_ excited at the prospect of her being here. She walked into the foyer, where a grand double staircase greeted her. Hallways flanked the stairs, as a senior footman took Blake’s coat and set it on a coat hanger for future retrieval. The walls were lined with dark trim, with wallpaper that had intricate designs and a slight beige color to it, while the stairs were lain in with a deep, dark wood with the same wallpaper design in between each step. Tall windows provided the only light – in this part of the room at least – from the outside world, which was quickly dwindling as the night progressed and the storm rolled in.

“Ah, you’re just in time,” Weiss said, her voice echoing from the apex of the stairs. She had a positively massive burgundy silk dress on, trimmed with bright white lace that crisscrossed her entire body down to the last bit of fabric that touched the floor. She stepped down the stairs, which were lit the entire way with ornate candles set in opulent holders. All around here there were either candles or the very rare electrical lights Blake had heard so much about.

“Uh, th-thank you for having me,” Blake said, doing her best to replicate the courtesies of formal occasions.

Weiss smiled, waving off her rudimentary curtsy. “There’s no need for such formality. After all… we’re friends, are we not?”

The way Weiss _said_ “friends” made Blake’s blood curdle, as if she had just unknowingly agreed to a terrible fate. The rain began to pound at the window, coupled with another round of distant rolling thunder. “I… suppose we are,” Blake said, shifting about uncomfortably.

Weiss stepped almost right next to her, gently taking her hand and leading her down the right-side hall. Now that she was much closer, she could see that Weiss had done her hair up just for the occasion, with a complicated French braid cascading off her back, styling her bangs to frame her face. Did she have even more makeup on than before? Blake couldn’t tell. The walls were covered with pictures, mostly of Schnee accomplishments such as business ventures – apparently mining was the Schnee industry of choice – as well as various achievements from universities, colleges, and other academies of note not just in England, but around the world.

Blake soon found out that the two halls connected with one another, leading to alternating sides of the house. Weiss explained that to their left was the library and a powder room, with a side door to the kitchen. They were heading to the right, into the living room and, eventually, into the dining hall. A footman had already prepared a fire for them, bowing deeply as they entered and taking his leave. Weiss invited Blake to take a seat, as a grandfather clock ticked and tocked away in the corner. Still yet the rain persisted, and Blake realized it mattered little where she went in this house – she was likely to be able to hear the rain and thunder anywhere. A maid brought them tea, brewed to perfection and with each one of them receiving it exactly as they liked, Weiss with just a touch of milk and cardamom, while Blake asked only for two sugars.

“You should try it with lemon,” Weiss recommended as she stirred her tea. “It’s much better for you than sugar.”

“Hmm?” Blake asked. “What do you mean?”

“Sugar can mask improperly brewed tea – thankfully not a soul on the Schnee staff has made that mistake – but it also hurts the body. Lemon juice is much healthier and keeps you in good humors.”

Blake blinked, not quite sure if she was really following what Weiss was saying. Regardless, she nodded anyway. “Well, thank you. I’ll have to try it next time.”

Despite the warmth – not from just the fireplace but the tea itself – that Blake found herself surrounded by, she still felt cold, as if there was a chill in the air that she couldn’t free herself of. Every time she looked over at Weiss, gazed into her deep blue eyes, it was like a shiver ran down her spine, renewing each time she blinked. Her host must have taken notice of this, as she tilted her head curiously. “What’s wrong?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice. “I thought you would be inundating me with questions, but you’ve been quiet since you came in.”

“I…” Blake muttered, clearing her throat. “I can’t help but feel that I’ve made a mistake in joining you for dinner. I thought you had at least two siblings – where is everyone?”

Weiss smiled – _that damned smile again_ – and set her tea on a plate. “Well, you see, my mother is on business in Germany. My older sister, Winter, is busy in Scotland working with the Highlanders to equip them with new weapons. My dear brother Whitley is surely still keeping up his studies at the University, and as for Father… well, he _does_ like to keep to himself, and unfortunately rain puts him in rather poor spirits. He is likely in the Bahamas by now, or perhaps Gibraltar. Who can say?”

Blake nodded, but she wasn’t quite sure if she believed this answer. It seemed very convenient. “So… it’s just us here?”

“Mhm,” Weiss said, sipping on her tea. “I wouldn’t want to bore you with talk of family drama and business politics, after all. Even _I_ grow weary of it from time to time.”

A bright flash of lightning filled the room, illuminating every corner. Blake practically jumped out of her skin as the thunder shook the entire house, but Weiss appeared unmoved, peacefully drinking as if nothing had happened at all. As the thunder faded out, all returned to somewhat relative normalcy as the fireplace continued to crackle and the rain poured down. Blake glanced out to be greeted only by perpetual darkness, marred only by the slight glimmer of light against drops of rain on the windows.

“Oh, that is sounding positively dreadful,” Weiss said. “You ought to spend the night here. It won’t do you any good to try to go home in that weather.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blake said, putting her tea on a side table. “Maybe I should just go-”

“You don’t want dinner, then?” Weiss said, sounding hurt.

Blake looked over at Weiss. Her eyes were definitely saddened, and her lower lip quivered. God, she couldn’t just give this up. Mixed emotions battled within her, one side finding this entire affair absurdly cute, and another which cried out as loud as it could that Blake should just run away and never look back.

“Okay,” Blake said, sighing as she relented. “I can stay for dinner.”

“If you stay for dinner,” Weiss bargained, her smile now coming in with at least _some_ genuine warmth, “then surely you can spend the night as well.”

A servant rang a bell, informing Weiss in German that dinner was ready for them. Again, Weiss led Blake by the hand into the dining hall, where high-backed leather chairs dotted the table with exactly five spots for the Schnee family. Massive cabinets held expensive chinaware, bronze-coated vessels for all manner of foods and liquids Blake knew not the purpose of, and a horde of other special occasion items. The servants set Weiss and Blake opposite of each other at the table, perfectly arranging plates and utensils for them. Curiously, Blake found that the forks and knives were steel, polished to a high degree, and not silver as she had expected.

“These are some of the finest dishes I’ve ever had,” Weiss said, swirling red wine around in her glass. “You’ll love every part of this, I assure you.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good,” Blake said weakly. _Just one dinner,_ she told herself. “So. I saw the pictures on the wall while we were coming in. What sort of mining does the Schnee family do?”

Weiss wagged a finger at her, frowning. “No. This is how we’re going to do this. For each course of the meal, you get one question. If I decide I like you further, you _may_ ask more. So think carefully. Salad does not count as a course.”

The servants appeared once more, placing small dishes in front of them. Blake honestly couldn’t describe what was on the plate even if she tried – it was something strangely purple, layered with sprigs of… was that _grass?_ Layers of something white, orange – carrots, maybe? - and gray chunks stood underneath it, giving off an odor not dissimilar to potato salads that Mom had made before.

“What is this?” Blake asked.

“ _Shuba,_ ” Weiss explained. “It’s a Russian salad, made with pickled herring, beets, carrots, onions and potatoes. I first had this in St. Petersburg, when I saw the Winter Palace. Oh, you would _love_ it.”

“You’ve been to Russia?” Blake asked, blinking. “That… doesn’t count as a question, does it?”

Weiss smiled, happily eating a spoonful of the rank Russian salad. “No, salad doesn’t count, so ask away. But I won’t answer anything interesting until the _real_ food starts arriving.”

She narrowed her eyes at Weiss, especially after raising the “salad” to her face, the smell of pickled herring and beets even stronger than it had been when it was just on her plate. Her nose crinkled at it – people actually _ate_ this stuff? No wonder Russia was so poorly off. Weiss seemed to enjoy it, so… maybe it wasn’t that bad? She shoved it in her mouth, immediately regretting it as she snatched her goblet of water up, hoping to drown out the taste. It didn’t help – the water just made it linger in her mouth.

“You didn’t like the _shuba?_ ” Weiss asked, genuinely disappointed. “I was _sure_ it’d be a winner. It almost always is…”

Blake coughed, doing her level best to keep the noxious food _in_ her rather than out. No sense in offending her even more and puking all over her table, after all. “No, I… maybe it’s an acquired taste. I typically _like_ fish, just…”

“Yes, it is a rather acquired taste, I do admit,” Weiss said. “Well, no matter. Is there anything else you would like to know before I finish this?”

A strike of thunder rumbled off in the distance, almost like a signal to impending doom. Blake sighed. She may as well learn everything she could. “What’s the _real_ reason you invited me here?”

At this, Weiss paused, her spoon freezing in midair just as she was about to put another bit of _shuba_ into her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“Last week, when I first met you, you were distant, cold. And now… you’re treating me like I’m an equal, and I’m very obviously not. So why did you _really_ invite me here tonight?”

Weiss slowly put the spoon in her mouth, just as sluggishly chewing. They met eyes for a moment, and once again Blake found herself face to face with the same deep blue eyes that, increasingly, she was drawn to. Blake realized that she looked upon Weiss almost like looking at a painting, taking in every detail like she had painted a portrait herself, wishing she could hold the same beauty and grace that Weiss did.

“Well,” Weiss finally said, setting her spoon down. “Perhaps you can find out at dessert.”

_Great, a non-answer._ The first course came out, lobster with a special butter sauce and fondant potatoes. This Blake could sink her teeth into, a whole lobster for each of them. This was definitely a luxury Blake never had at home, and likely never would again, and thus she took her time with the crustacean, savoring each bite.

“One question,” Weiss reminded her. “I’ll even answer something more difficult this time.”

Blake cut into one of the fondant potatoes, marveling at how crisp the outside crust was while the inside remained soft and creamy. “Alright,” she said. “Like I asked at first. What do you mine? Is it how you made your fortune?”

“That’s two questions,” Weiss replied, smiling playfully. “But I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it. We deal primarily with coal. We have enough mines that we dominate England’s power generation. Schnee coal powers nearly everything, from Royal Navy ships to the new factories.”

Blake smiled – she had technically answered both of them. “So, that _is_ how you made your fortune. I see.”

Weiss laughed – and Blake was ashamed to admit she found it absolutely adorable – looking at her as she brushed her bangs back slightly. “You _are_ rather smart, you know. I can’t fathom why you waste your time with the police.”

“Well, you’ve seen it,” Blake replied. “There’s a lot of murders. I… I like to think I can help.”

At this, Weiss’s smile faded, and she stabbed idly at her potatoes. “Hmm. Yes. Those particular crimes.” She sighed, sliding her plate to the side as a servant immediately scooped it up. “You haven’t even touched your wine.”

“I… I’m not much of a drinker,” Blake admitted.

“Well, this is genuine Burgundian wine, vintage of 1448. Very exquisite, I may add.”

“Oh,” Blake said. That was… some really old glorified grape juice. Still, she should be polite. Blake took a sip, and found it was actually rather good, very nice and crisp. “That… wow, that _is_ good.”

“Now, I think I’ve earned a question of my own,” Weiss said, bracing her chin against her hands. “What made you think I would ever be capable of those heinous murders?”

Blake nearly spat out the wine, not expecting Weiss to immediately slam her with a hard-hitting question. “Well, uh,” she stammered, trying to catch herself and retain at least _some_ dignity. “It was… a hunch, I suppose. You _were_ at all of the murders, and most murderers tend to come back at least once.”

“But you saw my routine,” Weiss countered. “You know that my day to day activities require I be in that part of London almost all the time.”

“Yes, well, that’s the difficulty of investigating,” Blake said, nodding. “Theories should suit facts, not the other way around. Once I knew your routine, I could mark your presence down as mere coincidence.”

Weiss smiled again, but this time it was oddly warm and comforting, like she was glad she had beat Blake at her own game or something. “How lovely, so I’m not a suspect of your grisly crimes after all! So then why did you continue to watch me?”

“Uh, well, I, uh-”

“Oh, don’t be coy, Miss Belladonna, it’s alright. I’ll play by the same rules you do,” Weiss snapped her fingers, which brought out the next course. What even was this? “You get one question per course, and so do I. I won’t make you answer that.”

Blake swallowed as her wine was refilled. She didn’t dare imbibe in it any further. Best to stick to water. The food, which was in an amazingly white bowl, had a hefty, spicy smell to it, and Blake could see bits of what looked like an apple in it. “What… is this?”

“Curry,” Weiss said, relishing every spoonful of it. “Not as good as proper Indian curry, but it satisfies in a pinch. What’s your _real_ question?”

Hesitantly, Blake lifted a portion of the “curry” up. If this was anything like that Russian “salad” then this did not bode well for the rest of the evening. She slowly let the curry enter her mouth, expecting the worst, and yet despite the intense heat of the spice, she found it was actually pleasant. Chunks of what looked like braised beef crumbled softly, mixing with the spices and apples to provide a positively otherworldly experience.

“This is… wow,” Blake said, surprised that something that looked so unappetizing was actually good. “Right… why did you tense up when I mentioned the murders?”

Weiss paused again, refusing to meet her eyes this time. She set her fork down slowly, dabbing at her mouth with the napkin before exhaling deeply. “Heinous crimes. I don’t much like to talk about it.”

“I think it’s something else that’s bothering you,” Blake said, narrowing her eyes. “So what is it?”

“ _One_ question per course. You already asked yours.” Weiss straightened herself up, a mischievous smile crossing her face. “Tell me about your family. You know about mine, but who else is in the Belladonna family?”

Blake blinked, unsure how to handle the transition. “Uh, well… I’m an only child. My father is – _was_ – a member of lower Parliament. He… retired a few years ago. Mother likes to sew from time to time, but I don’t believe she ever worked.”

“Mmm, I think I recall hearing about him,” Weiss said. “I was right, then! I _knew_ you were Ghira Belladonna’s daughter!”

“That’s… uh, thank you, I suppose?”

Weiss smiled again, playfully waving her fork around. “This is fantastic. Here I thought we wouldn’t have anything in common at all, but now we can _truly_ get along. Ah, how _wonderful!_ ”

Nibbling on the curry, Blake narrowed her eyes. There was something strange here. She excused herself to head to the powder room, backtracking down the hall that led from the foyer. The walls were just like they had been earlier, covered with photographs and painted portraits. A footman shadowed her as she headed down the hall, staying just far enough away that he wasn’t a burden but clearly following her.

Blake escaped into the safety of the powder room, panting heavily as she gripped the sink and stared into the mirror. A flash of lightning enveloped the tiny room, and for a moment she believed she saw Weiss standing right behind her, looming as if like a specter in a penny novel about ghosts. The more she stared back at herself, though, the more she thought about something that had bothered her.

There wasn’t a single picture of a Schnee in any of the halls.

All they had were paintings. Photographs never had them in it, just pictures of things they had done, or built. The only family or individual portraits were paintings, done in classical art styles or by the latest well-known painters. Why was it like this? She remembered that the newspapers also never had actual pictures of Schnees, not even the new ones that loved to include pictures on nearly every copy.

What was the Schnee family trying to hide?

Blake headed back to the dining room, where the previous course had already been removed. Weiss seemed unperturbed as Blake sat back down, assisted in by the footman that had followed her.

“Our last course will be roasted turkey,” Weiss said. “Thankfully, we’ve had one imported from Canada, and I’ve been assured it’s very delicious.”

She nodded, waiting for the third course to come so she could ask the burning question. What is she, really? What was Weiss hiding? Blake had to know. She couldn’t leave until she knew. Slices of the roasted turkey piled on the plate as another clap of thunder boomed and echoed, sounding much closer than before. It was almost as if the lightning and thunder had become one, so intertwined it was impossible to tell the two apart.

“What are you, really?” Blake asked the second the plate hit the table. Weiss paused, taken aback by the sudden question and intensity behind it. She looked up, blinking rapidly.

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently.

Blake narrowed her eyes, her arms folded. “There’s not a single picture of you or anyone in your family that I can find. There’s paintings, but people have been taking photographs of themselves for years. My family isn’t well-off by any means, but we can find the money to get our photograph taken. So tell me why _you,_ with all your money and power, don’t have them.”

The sound of rain smashing against the windows overwhelmed all other noises as the staff, who had been waiting on them hand and foot, froze in place. Weiss did not move even a muscle, and for a second even Blake’s own breathing paused. “So, you figured it out, then.”

“I figured what out?” Blake asked, still looking at Weiss suspiciously.

Her host laughed, smiling wide with the same levity and grace that accompanied nearly everything she had done this evening. “I meant it when I said you were smart. You asked me why I _really_ invited you here tonight. The honest truth is that you have piqued my interest, Blake. You’re a very interesting woman, and I wanted to get to know you better.”

“That’s _not_ what I asked you,” Blake said.

“No, it’s not, and I apologize. I wanted to make my feelings clear – you are a very wonderful woman, Blake, and I very much would like to spend more time with you, if that would be amenable to you, of course.”

Blake groaned, clenching her fists. Why was there a burning in her heart? Why did she hear what Weiss was saying, and instead of want to run out the door, stay here all night with her? How come her smile was the best, most beautiful thing she had ever seen? “Please, just answer my question,” Blake pleaded.

“Don’t you already know?” Weiss said coyly, baring her teeth as a pair pointed fangs slid out. “I’m a vampire, of course. All of us Schnees are.”

“Wh… what?” Blake asked, her eyes growing wide. It… it was a joke, right? Some kind of prank? At any second, Weiss would say “just kidding” and take the fake fangs off, surely. Right?

Weiss retracted her fangs, easily settling back into her chair and taking bites of the turkey as if nothing had happened. “I didn’t tell you at first because I was sure you wouldn’t have believed me. But, since you figured it out, I thought I could be honest and truthful with you.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Blake stammered. “But… then…”

“Yes, I am responsible for the killings. All vampires need blood, after all. But, don’t worry, I won’t drain you of your blood, I’ve already had my fill for the week.”

Blake leaped out of her chair, knocking the utensils and plates about in a mass clatter. “That’s not much of a reassurance! How do I know you won’t after I go to sleep tonight?!”

“If I wanted to,” Weiss said slowly,” then I already would have. Do you honestly think I would have wasted all of this food and time if all I wanted was your blood? No, I would have done it _much_ earlier. I already told you, I would like to get to know you better, and I think deep down, you want to get to know _me,_ too.”

She paused, about to protest but finding herself unable to. Weiss was, unfortunately, right. Blake _did_ want to know more about her. This mission had gone from one of mere factfinding and theory exploration to… something much different. Even though she had admitted culpability, even though she was something straight out of a novel, even though every rational part of Blake’s mind told her to run away and never look back, Blake looked at Weiss and found herself mesmerized. She _wanted_ to know more about Weiss, wanted to listen to her talk about any topic that struck her fancy, and maybe, just maybe even feel her lips pressed against Blake’s own.

Blake said nothing for the final course of dinner, working through what she knew and trying to reconcile it with her own emotions. She drank as much wine as the servants would give her, arguing with the bottom of the glass each time. Increasingly, the glass argued back, _“why not?_ ” It was an absurdly simple argument, and quite an effective one at that. The more she drank, ate, and watched Weiss, the more Blake realized that she was most definitely falling for her. She didn’t care if it was some sort of mystical spell that Weiss no doubt knew. She could practically trace her will to be near Weiss almost to the moment they met, when Blake had approached despite every alarm bell ringing and ordering her not to.

“Would you like dessert?” Weiss asked as the plates were carried away.

Blake swallowed hard as the thunder shook the house once more, rattling windows and causing some of the staff to glance up, as if they were surprised at the intensity of the storm. “Weiss, I… I have to admit something,” Blake said shakily, unsure if she was really about to say what she was.

“Well, then please, go ahead my dear.”

“I… I don’t know if this is some sort of spell, or what have you, but… I think I quite enjoy your company. I really do like you, and…”

Weiss smiled sheepishly, her face turning red. “You needn’t say anything more.” She rose up, circling the table and taking Blake’s hand in her own, leading her out of the room. “Come, let us enjoy dessert somewhere more private.”

* * *

They entered a grand bedroom on the second floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows that arched near the top. The curtains had been drawn open, with flashes of lightning illuminating every corner of the room as the rain continued to pour down, endless in its endeavors to soak London thoroughly. A servant bowed deeply as he exited the room, having attended to a tray filled with squares of dark chocolate hat stood next to an absolutely massive bed. The red quilt was accented with all manner of colors, while stark white sheets and pillows covered the head, large enough to easily fit four people, Blake imagined. Weiss led her to the bed, urging her to gently sit down on it and wheeling the tray over.

“Is… this dessert?” Blake asked, glancing over at the tray.

“Chocolate from the Dutch colonies of Indonesia,” Weiss explained. “It’s a _wonderful_ aphrodisiac, not to mention some of the best chocolate I’ve ever had. Much better than that milk concoction from Switzerland.”

Weiss picked up a small square, gently caressing Blake’s face as she fed Blake a piece of chocolate. It slowly melted as it hit her mouth, with a slight bitterness that was neither masked nor overpowered by sweetness. In short, it was the perfect, elegant mix of indulgence that left Blake wanting more.

“Oh my God,” Blake muttered, staring up at Weiss. “This is amazing.”

Weiss smiled, biting into a piece of chocolate herself. “Isn’t it? You look lovely, by the way.”

Was it hot in here, or was it just Blake? She let out an exhausted sigh, wishing that she could be close enough to dare to kiss Weiss, smiling as her host inched ever closer with another piece of chocolate. “Thank you,” she managed to say before the dark chocolate came in. “You look amazing.”

“Perhaps we should end this charade, then,” Weiss said, leaning in and giving Blake what she so desperately wanted. Weiss’s lips were as perfectly soft as she imagined, and Blake felt herself melting just like the chocolate, giving in to the irrational lust as she closed her eyes. Weiss was clearly an expert in this realm, knowing exactly how to drive Blake wild.

They broke from the kiss far too early, as Weiss licked her lips of the chocolate seductively. She began to discard elements of her dress, revealing just the bare minimum of her breasts, placing a piece of chocolate in Blake’s hand. Weiss didn’t need to say anything – Blake knew what she wanted. Just as carefully and tenderly as Weiss had, Blake gave Weiss the morsel of dark chocolate, thunder and lightning punctuating their time together. As Weiss ate the chocolate, Blake began to remove her dress as well, unable to keep her own heat contained.

Their combined mass of fabric hit the floor, and soon Weiss was undoing her hair, letting the ornate bump fall down as loose strands lay across her bare shoulders. Blake readjusted herself, kissing Weiss again as their bare shoulders wrapped around each other. Before long, even their petticoats went to the wayside, leaving Weiss and Blake both in just their corsets and bloomers. Blake’s heart began to race, pounding at a million miles a minute as Weiss’s hands wandered along her body, and she realized her own hands were desperately pawing at the irritating material that separated her from Weiss’s breasts, running over the smooth garment and Weiss’s porcelain skin.

Weiss came in for another deep, long kiss, deftly unlacing Blake’s corset. _God,_ she wanted this so badly. She could resist no longer. All she wanted was to feel Weiss’s skin against her own, surrender to the passion and fall in love with Weiss, embrace every portion of her and let her do whatever she wished. Weiss smiled as she watched Blake’s corset fall off, revealing her breasts to the world to a quite unintentional moan from Blake. Weiss hadn’t even dared to touch a part of her and she had already created such ungodly noises – what would she sound like when Weiss dared to move on?

Dropping any pretenses of restraint, Blake began to grind herself against Weiss’s thigh, which caused a wide grin to cross Weiss’s face. She practically _growled_ , undoing her corset and showing Blake her breasts, just large enough for Blake to almost immediately grab a handful of. Another deep, long kiss, where their breasts pressed together, just as Blake began to wriggle herself free of her bloomers. A crack of thunder accompanied Weiss’s gasp on delight when she saw Blake was naked in front of her, and without a moment’s hesitation she whipped what was left of her clothing off as well.

Weiss practically tackled Blake, enveloping her in her arms as they rolled over one another on the bed, sharing long and deep kisses that only served to further drive Blake wild. Did she dare to let her hands wander further? Would Blake find her fingers touching herself first, or did she want to surprise the Schnee heiress and caress her beautiful pussy? Weiss’s heavy breaths mixed with Blake’s as they alternated between giving each other air and diving right back in, hungry for the taste of each other’s lips. Blake smirked through another passionate kiss, her hand slowly creeping its way down.

She just so barely put her fingers in Weiss, who was as soft and dreamlike as she had imagined. Weiss moaned in pleasure as she reared her head back, tightening her grip around Blake’s shoulder. Just as quickly, Weiss recovered and smiled back at Blake, reaching behind her to grab a piece of chocolate. A flash of thunder illuminated the scar on her eye as she put the chocolate in Blake’s mouth, maintaining eye contact as she leaned down, caressing Blake’s tits. She started slowly, with her warm, velvety hands working over her at first until she elected to just start nibbling gently at Blake’s nipples. If she hadn’t been rock-hard before, Blake certainly was _now,_ a jolt of joy surging through her.

Blake and Weiss moaned almost at the same time when Blake dared to venture deeper into Weiss’s pussy, only pulling her fingers out to tease her just enough. Just as the chocolate melted, so too did Blake as Weiss’s hand traced a line from Blake’s tits to her pussy. She didn’t start to finger her like Blake had done, no, she had _other_ things in mind. Slowly, and with a satisfied sigh, she pulled Blake’s hand away from her, gyrating against Blake’s thigh. Why had Weiss seen fit to tease her so? She desperately wanted to bury her face in between Weiss’s thighs, give her the pleasure that Weiss so maliciously withheld. Anything to show Weiss her utter devotion.

She couldn’t help herself. Blake’s hands meandered down to her pussy as she watched Weiss grind against her. She rubbed her pussy almost as fast as Weiss moved, trying to decide whether she’d rather grab her own breast or latch on to Weiss again. She couldn’t help but moan as she watched Weiss move, almost like a dancer against her. The closer Blake got to the edge, of daring to slip off the precipice and fall face-first into an orgasm, the slower Weiss went until she decided to take a far more direct approach.

“Please,” Blake muttered as Weiss quietly moved her hand away.

Her host smiled, a devilish glint entering her eye. “Please what?” Weiss gingerly laid her head down, her breath tickling Blake’s pussy ever so slightly, making room for herself.

Blake panted, grabbing a handful of her breast in one hand as she ran the other through Weiss’s hair. “I want it,” she pleaded. “Fuck, I want it so badly.”

Her face beet red, Weiss opened her mouth, her tongue just barely touching her clit. She had found it so fast and immediately went at it with such a loving touch of her tongue that Blake felt as if she had just melted. Blake arched her back, her moan echoing across the bedroom as the lightning and thunder came in force, almost matching the intense ecstasy that had consumed her.

She looked down, running her hands through Weiss’s hair as she went to work. Occasionally, Weiss’s blue eyes flicked up to meet Blake’s, silently asking for feedback. Blake’s moans and half-muttered curses were all she could give. Taking this as encouragement, no doubt, Weiss pressed on, and all at once Blake felt a smattering of emotions. Vulnerability. Closeness. Sensuality. Fucking _love._ Every part of her was willing to do anything Weiss asked her to do, if only for another chance to feel the intense warmth and fire that Weiss had lit inside her. Flashes of lightning shined in Weiss’s eyes as she looked up, taking about half as much pleasure in this as Blake did.

Before Blake was even aware of it, a knot of heat worked its way down her body, and as the thunder clapped and shuddered the house whole, Blake began to moan so loudly that her own voice drowned out the rolling thunder that stood over them. She practically squeezed Weiss’s head as her host brought Blake to the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced in her life, far beyond anything she had been able to elicit with her own fingers. Every muscle in her body tensed up as she was overcome with pleasure, collapsing on the bed. Weiss rose from her spot, playfully dragging her fingers across Blake’s body with a lustful smile on her face.

“Tell me,” Weiss whispered, gently caressing Blake’s jaw. “Do you love me?”

“God, yes,” Blake replied, wrapped Weiss up in her arms. “Every part of you. You made me feel so good.”

Weiss smiled, kissing Blake just as passionately as ever. Blake ran her hands over every last inch of Weiss, from her perfectly round tits to her finely crafted thighs, afraid that when morning came there’d be nothing left of her but a memory. Slowly and silently, they broke from the kiss. It was time for Blake to reciprocate, and she was more than eager to please. Weiss laid against the pillows on the bed, propping herself up as she gingerly spread her legs for Blake. _God,_ she was so beautiful. How had Blake ever deluded herself into keeping a straight face around her?

Blake started slowly – after all, Weiss had properly teased her, and she was not about to let the Schnee heiress get off so easily. She lightly kissed Weiss’s thighs, practically worshiping ever part of her pussy and the area around it. Weiss swallowed hard, playing with her tits as Blake danced around her clit. Soft, elegant moans radiated from Weiss, sounding more like she had begun practicing notes for the opera rather than having sex. Just as Blake began to truly eat her out, Weiss moved her hips in step with Blake’s tongue, forcing her even deeper.

She looked up – Weiss had surrendered totally to the emotions, her eyes slammed shut as she fondled herself, humming and groaning with such intensity that for a moment, Blake almost wanted to join her. Thunder and lightning mixed, becoming one with Weiss’s moans that turned into outright screaming as Blake teased her clit in _just_ the right way. Watching the Schnee heiress turn from a thing of grace to a lust-filled animal drove Blake wild, just enough that she took a hand off Weiss’s thigh and began rubbing her own pussy again. It didn’t feel nearly as good as having Weiss’s tongue on her, but for how absurdly horny she was it was replacement enough.

“ _Mein Gott,_ ” Weiss panted. She switched entirely to German, pleading with Blake to keep doing whatever she was. Blake looked up at her to see Weiss had opened her eyes, which had now rolled back as a smile borne out of pure passion crept across her reddened face. Weiss’s screaming grew louder and louder, and just as lightning struck once more, flashing the room and reflecting light off of every part of their naked, glistening bodies, she let out a long, final outburst of emotion.

Blake laughed, watching Weiss’s chest heaved as her arms fell by the wayside. She crawled up next to Weiss, who immediately embraced her. Their sweat mixed as heated, bated breaths mingled in the intimate confines of their post-coital hug, only interrupted by another kiss.

“I love you,” Weiss said quietly, cupping Blake’s face in her hand. “I knew I loved you the second I saw you.”

Blake hummed, kissing Weiss yet again. She could never get tired of this. “I love you too.” She realized she had pushed out nearly every other sound while focused on having sex, and like she had just taken off a hood, the sound of rain pounding against the window and howling wind came back in force. This was _right,_ she decided. Nothing else mattered to Blake right now.

* * *

Blake didn’t know how long they laid there in the bed together, still naked and refusing to even move to try to sleep. The thunder and rain continued unabated, occasionally lighting up the world as servants – not looking at them for long, thankfully – blew out candles and took the tray of chocolate away. For a while, all Blake wanted to do was sleep with her lover right next to her, wrap herself up in Weiss’s comforting arms and let her worries and fears fade out.

“Blake?” Weiss asked, gently running her thumb over Blake’s cheek. “Are you still awake?”

“Mmm, right here,” she replied.

Weiss paused, and for a moment, Blake wasn’t sure how to interpret it. She couldn’t see Weiss, not very well at least, causing her to fear that she had done something wrong unintentionally. “Blake, darling, how old are you?”

She blinked, furrowing her brow as she tried to understand why Weiss was asking _that_ of all things. “Uh, I’m… twenty. Why?”

A series of flashes, the result of a cascade of lightning strikes that perfectly brightened Weiss’s face, showed Blake exactly what she was feeling. Her face was filled with concern and worry, short, hesitant breaths escaping from her lips. “Blake… do you truly love me? Do you want to be with me?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Blake said, putting her forehead against Weiss’s. “I don’t care if there’s some magic that you put on me to make me feel this way. I love you. I always will.”

“No, I didn’t do that to you,” Weiss said, shaking her head. “And you’re not just saying that because we had sex?”

“Of course not.”

Weiss sighed heavily, still softly stroking Blake’s face. “Darling… vampires live much longer than humans. You know that, right?”

“I… I do _now,_ ” she replied, weakly laughing. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in this short day,” Weiss explained, her voice low. “I’m… I don’t want to lose you. You’ll grow old and die much faster than I would like, but…”

She ran her hands through Weiss’s hair, straining to see in the dark but finding nothing. “But what?”

“If… you would let me… I can make you a vampire. You’ll live as long as I do, maybe even a little bit longer. I just need to bite you long enough to turn you, and… the fangs may hurt when they come in, but I’ll be here to help you. I can teach you everything you need to know.”

Blake paused, her hands freezing in place. This was a _big_ thing to consider. Before today, she had never considered the idea that vampires existed. For all she knew, that was just the realm of pure fantasy, novels that she read once and ridiculed as absurd. But now… now she realized that she couldn’t bear to live without Weiss. She had shown Blake so much, given her the love she desperately wanted – even if she didn’t know she needed it – and even now was admitting to her a deep, dark fear.

And yet, if joining with Weiss to become a vampire was what was needed… then maybe she could do that. She didn’t want to lose Weiss either, and the idea of having to divorce themselves from one another due to being of different worlds – or even passing far too soon – was unthinkable to Blake.

“Okay,” Blake said, nodding. “Do it. I can’t let you go either, Weiss.”

Weiss gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. Eventually, she composed herself, nodding and kissing Blake deeply once again. “I won’t take much blood from you,” she whispered. “Just sit back and relax.”

She gently pushed Blake’s head back, exposing her neck as she maneuvered herself around. A slight shifting noise, almost like the sound of a blade being taken out of a sheath, accompanied Weiss as she leaned down to Blake’s neck. Blake didn’t even feel the fangs go in – all she felt was Weiss’s mouth on her neck for a mere moment, before she pulled back and dabbed at the spot she had bit down on.

“There,” Weiss said. “It may take a few days, but… you’re officially a vampire now, my love.”

Blake took Weiss back into her arms, pulling her as close as possible. Even now, the smell of blood on Weiss’s fangs was positively tantalizing. “Thank you, Weiss,” she said, kissing her if only for a small taste of blood.

It turned out to be their last kiss of the night. She and Weiss fell asleep on top of one another, with a fading thunderstorm the only reminder of the delightful and unexpected night together.


End file.
